


Frank Fucking Gallagher

by fallingforcas



Series: Husband's n' shit [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fights, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Mickey doing what he does best, Near Future, Protective Mickey Milkovich, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingforcas/pseuds/fallingforcas
Summary: #48 "Let's go."Mickey protects Ian - at all costs
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Husband's n' shit [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643434
Comments: 4
Kudos: 238





	Frank Fucking Gallagher

Mickey was respectable now. Well, kind of. He had a car, which was not illegally earned. For once. It wasn’t anything special, but it got him from place to place, and got him where he needed to be, considering he and Ian had moved further away since they got hitched. Currently, he was _respectably_ waiting in such car for Ian like some bitch. 

Ian had been visiting his siblings for a couple of nights while Mickey finished off an important job at work. Mickey had insisted that Ian didn’t have to literally vacate to the Gallagher house, but he couldn’t stop those emerald pearls, that peered at him with such devotion, from allowing him too. Ian was a sucker for family-orientated bullshit and Mickey, secretly, liked it. 

Mickey honked the horn a couple of times, giving Ian the signal to hurry his ass up. Muttering under his breath, he attempts to work out the shadows behind the make-shift curtains hanging in the windows, “Hurry the fuck up, Gallagher.” 

A couple of minutes pass, followed by a couple more persistent honks, and still Ian hadn’t happily leaped out the door. Mickey wasn’t a man of patience and he couldn’t freeze his ass off any longer than he liked to. That’s when he grumpily turns off the engine, stepping out the car with pure annoyance and climbs the porch steps. 

Before even opening the door, he can hear loud voices blaring from the household. It wasn’t unusual to hear such noise, Mickey had stayed there long enough to recognise each one, but the booming, drunken voice of Frank fucking Gallagher was a voice that was certainly not welcome. 

Storming through the rattling door, Mickey is faced with an unsurprising scene. Frank yelling profound insults at his children, not that Mickey was calling him anything near to a father, and swinging his arms around like a goddamn idiot. 

Mickey walks in as Frank professes his frustrations. 

“I’m the patriarch of _this_ family. I should be treated like a _king_.” 

Mickey glances around the room. Ian was growing red, his eyes bulging out of his head, as his arms stayed clenched at his sides. Carl, as Carl always did, looked unphased by Frank’s rambling bullshit, and rolled his eyes at each profanity. Lip continued to shove, and virtually hover, Frank who continued to aggressively muttering his own words of annoyance under his breath. Mickey knew the rest were capable of looking after themselves, especially against Frank who could barely stand, but he had to keep his eye on Ian’s choice of actions as he knew his temper didn’t always stay calm in the presence of his deadbeat, drunken father. 

Frank frails his hands around, “You’re my children. My offspring.” Glancing over at Liam, who is aimlessly ignoring the situation, he retracts his thoughts, “Well, maybe not you –” he carries on, “I brought you into this world. This is how you choose to treat the person who put air in your lungs and this roof over your heads.” 

Lip shoves at Frank, “Just get out of here, Frank.” 

Ian finally notices Mickey standing by the door and he physically reduces his angered stance. Mickey gives him a weak smile, staying put behind Frank in-case he needed to chuck the drunk fuck out himself. 

Frank frowns, snatching a beer from Carl’s hands. “This is my house.” 

Ian steps forward, exchanging looks between him and Mickey, and seethes, “This isn’t your house, Frank. Now get the fuck out.” 

Mickey inches closer. He knew that Ian didn’t need him to fight his own battles, and he’d argue till dawn to prove it, but if Frank did touch Ian there would be severe broken bones. 

Frank laughs menacingly, pointing to Ian. “Oh! And isn’t it my son—” 

Ian grips Frank’s shirt with his enclosed fists, “I said get the fuck out, Frank.” 

Lip had placed a soothing hand to Ian’s back, sensing Ian’s increasingly building anger as Mickey also did, but it’s too late. Frank had taken Ian’s grip as an opportunity to cause unnecessary havoc. Of course, Mickey was totally respectable now. But that went out the window when Frank Gallagher decided to headbutt his husband so hard Ian almost dropped to the carpet. 

Of course, Lip and Carl were intent on defending their brothers honour, but Mickey was adamant that he was going to get there first. Pushing the rest back, he happily launches his weight towards Frank, pelting his fist into his face. Frank knocks back, blood immediately running from his nose, and Mickey sends a swift kick to his stomach. As Frank grips at the pain, somehow still spurting nonsense as he went down, Mickey hits him again. The Gallagher’s watch in amusement, some in shock, Debbie helping Ian with his own blooded nose.

Now that Frank was fully, and easily, disabled, Mickey leans down and grabs at his hair, lifting his face from the ground, “You ever fucking touch a hair on his head, or any of their heads, I’ll fucking _kill_ you. You got that?” 

With blood clotting around his teeth, Frank responds with a laugh. Bad move on his part. Mickey slams his head against the floor. Mickey smirks, “I’ve planned to do that once. I’ll do it again.” He slams Frank’s head again, “Now go back to the bottle you fucking crawled out of you deadbeat fuck. You aint welcome here, not when I’m around. So—” 

Just as Mickey was ready to full blown paralyse Frank, he feels a soft hand touch his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to figure out who it was. Ian had a way of diffusing Mickey of his anger. A simple touch could make him do anything. Mickey keeps his grip hard against the heavily breathing drunken beneath him, turning his hardened gaze to Ian. 

Ian’s stood there, bloody and sweaty, and is giving him the eyes. The eyes that tell him to stop. 

Mickey doesn’t want to let go of Frank. “Let me fuckin’ do this, Gallagher. He’s got to die.” 

The guy was like a rash, always coming back, and always causing shit for all of them. He needed to go. Jail time would be worth serving if Frank never had the chance to hurt any of the Gallagher’s ever again. 

Ian’s not giving in though. Shock. He jostles Mickey’s shoulder, “Mick. Stop. It’s okay.” 

Mickey glares towards Frank. He wanted that fuck dead, buried, dismembered and chucked into the river, but Ian was right. Frank wasn’t even worth that hassle. He spits into Frank’s face before finally releasing him from his hold, stepping up and adjusting himself. 

Lip slaps Mickey on the back, “He’ll be dead soon anyway.” 

Mickey wants to believe that – hell, Lip was probably right – but that wouldn’t stop Frank terrorising them on the way. “He tries that shit again—” 

Debbie rolls her eyes, attempting to lift Frank from the floor. “Yes, we’ll call you.” 

Mickey’s still fuming, his eyes seeing red, his chest puffed up in rage. Ian turns him around to look at him, blood clotting and drying quickly around his nostrils. “Mick, let’s go. Yeah?” 

Mickey nods. Ian was always right. He could leave that house knowing he had sent Frank a clear enough message to never step foot in that house again. Ian says his goodbyes, reassuring them he’d live after such a hard headbutt, and ushers Mickey out the door with persistence. 

They’re silent until they reach the car. Mickey notices Ian wincing, “You okay? Hit you pretty hard, man.” 

Ian nods his head, opening the passenger door. “I’m not a pussy, Mick. I’ll live.” 

Mickey only nods, equally ashamed by filled with pride by his fists. He opens his side; he slips into the car. Ian immediately reaches his hand over, intertwining Mickey’s fingers with his. Mickey relaxes in the gesture, sighing heavily with relief. 

Ian kisses at his bloodied, tattooed knuckles before gently whispering, “Thanks.” 

Mickey starts the engine, “Anytime, Gallagher.” 


End file.
